Six
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Six times, Fred Weasley asked if their get-togethers were a date.  One time, Hermione Granger says yes.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all! Here's a new story from me. This one won't be as long as I usually write, but hopefully it'll be just as good. I own nothing. Still. Sad.

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The First Time

The Burrow was alive with excitement and laughter. The yard was illuminated with fairy lights and fireworks as the Weasley family and their closest friends celebrated the marriage of the mischievous twin, George. He and his bride, Angelina Johnson, danced excitedly as more and more liquor flowed. The revelry continued late into the night, long after Arthur and Molly retired to bed.

Fred Weasley, the groom's identical twin, stationed himself next to the buffet table with a small tumbler of firewhiskey in hand. He wasn't sure if it was the amount of alcohol he had consumed or the lack of sleep, but he could have sworn he saw the tablecloth of a vacant table move. He shook his head to clear his vision, but the fabric rustled again. It was a cool, clear night with no breeze. His curiosity was piqued, so he moved closer to the abandoned table.

"Hey, Freddie, come dance with us!" George called from across the yard. A large, toothy smile graced his face as his wife kissed him for the millionth time that night. Fred politely declined and took a seat at the empty table. The movement stopped as soon as he sat down.

Someone must have been under there. Fred smirked at the thought of breaking up a couple of guests' under-the-table activities. Bored with waiting for them to emerge, Fred pulled up the tablecloth to reveal a very red-faced Hermione Granger.

"Um, hi," she said quietly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"What are you doing under the table?" he inquired, one eyebrow raised.

The color in her cheeks rose. "Hiding. Would you mind?" she asked, indicating that she wanted him to lower the cloth.

Blue eyes darted around the crowd as he made sure no one was watching. Then he slipped under the table to join the embarrassed witch. Her sanctuary once again restored, Hermione allowed a small smile to pull at her lips. "Who are we hiding from?"

Hermione would not allow her eyes to meet Fred. "Ronald," she mumbled. Silence permeated their small space as the seconds ticked by. Fred wasn't pushing for any further explanation, though, deep down, they both knew he wanted one. Eventually, she realized he deserved it. "Ever since we kissed, he's been...insufferable. The touching and the hugging and handholding; every time we're around each other he tries to kiss me. I just...I'm not sure if I share his feelings anymore."

"Has some other bloke stolen your romantic attentions?" Fred joked, nudging her side with his elbow. Hermione shook her head adamantly. "The Hermione Granger I know wouldn't hide under a table from a boy."

"I've done it before," she argued. "Cormac McLaggen, sixth year, the Slug Club Christmas party."

The redhead laughed. "Now that's the Hermione Granger I know." For the first time, possibly all evening, Hermione laughed. They sat under that table and talked for awhile. They discussed everything from their favorite books and songs to the joke shop and Hermione's plans for the future. Her hand rested on Fred's knee as they laughed loudly when someone exposed their hiding place.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Ron Weasley demanded.

Quickly, Hermione pulled her hand away from Fred and let them drop into her lap. Fred shot her a reassuring smile before shrugging. He moved to his hands and knees and crawled out into the open air before drawing himself up to his full height. "Come dance with me, Granger," he suggested when she too emerged. His hand caught hold of hers before Ron could pull her away.

"Hermione," Ron said, his blue eyes pleading.

"I haven't had a chance to dance with Fred yet," she explained. Ron's face reddened. "It's just one dance." 

Fred was pulling her onto the dance floor before Ron could reply. A slow song played as Fred and Hermione swayed gently to the soft rhythm. Fred pulled her closer as the music continued to play.

"So, I take it you and Ron aren't a couple?" Fred asked softly so the other couples around them wouldn't hear.

Hermione shrugged, tightening her grip on his hand. "He wants to be," she replied. The song ended, to be replaced by something more fast paced and upbeat. Hermione pulled away and made her way off the dance floor.

"You and Fred looked awfully cozy," Ron spat as she passed by. "I wasn't even aware that you two were friends. When did that happen?"

Hermione whirled around, dislodging more curls from the bun she had styled it in hours before. "Since first year, I'd wager, when he walked me to my first Potions class because I couldn't find the dungeons. I've spent every summer and most every school break with your family for the better part of the last seven years. Fred and I have managed to become friends in that time."

"The way he was holding you seemed more than friendly if you ask me," he retorted, his voice angrily low.

A small guffaw escaped Hermione's lips. "I don't recall asking you." She began to walk away again until Ron caught hold of her arm.

"Wait, Mione, I'm sorry," he relented. "I just thought you were my date."

She took a step back, wrenching her arm out of his grip. "Then you should have asked me."

Ron stood there, dumbfounded, as Hermione stormed into the house. He watched as the light in the room she and his sister, Ginny, turned on and then off. Fred sidled up beside him, staring at his younger brother.

"Piss off," was all Ron grumbled before making his way to the bar. Fred watched to make sure his brother was occupied before slipping into the house.

Quietly, he entered Ginny's room just off the second floor landing. The lights were off; a lit wand tip the only thing illuminating the cozy room. Hermione looked up, a look of bewilderment on her face at the sight of the intruder. "What are you doing here?"

Fred moved over to sit on Ginny's bed, across from Hermione. His elbows rested on his thighs as he played with his hands. "Wanted to make sure you were okay. Ron was a bit out of line."

Hermione turned on the bedside lamp and extinguished her wand before closing her book. "I have to tell him," she said with a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "Whatever Ron and I were, it's over now."

Fred nodded. "Probably better that way," he agreed, smoothing back long locks of red hair. "I'll let you get to bed. It's been a long day." He stood, stooping momentarily to kiss her cheek.

She moved back to pull back the covers. "Good night, Fred. Thank you...for everything tonight."

The redhead smiled. "So, the way I look at it," he said, standing in the doorway, "you danced with me, but not Ron. Guess that made you my date."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head at his joke. "It wasn't a date, Fred. Good night."

Once more he smiled back before closing the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The Second Time

It was a clear summer day and there was a lull at the joke shop run by the Weasley twins. Fred stood in the doorway watching witches and wizards stroll through Diagon Alley. One particular witch caught his eye as she stared at a display in a nearby shop window. The first thing he noticed was the mane of chestnut-colored curls pulled back into a ponytail.

"Granger!" he called out across the walkway. The brunette turned around to find the caller, and smiled when she saw Fred looking at her. She waved before making her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "Business is a bit slow. Want to get lunch?"

"Sure," she agreed. Fred stepped out, closing the door behind him. Silently, they walked to the Leaky Cauldron, watching people move around them. The pub was crowded and noisy, the smells of smoke and fragrant dishes filled the air. They moved to the back and took a seat at a small two person table.

After placing their orders, Fred leaned back in his chair, resting his right elbow on the chairback. "Ya know, I've been coming here for years, and every time I'm here I always think it can't get more crowded."

"And yet, each time, it seems like more people are packed in," Hermione agreed.

Their meals quickly arrived, and the pair ate in silence. It wasn't until Fred dropped his fork and pushed away his plate that he spoke. "Have you spoken to Ron yet? Ended things?"

She produced a nonchalant shrug. "There was never really anything to end. We were never officially a couple." Her words took on more anger as she continued speaking. "After all, to be a couple, one must ask the other person to be a couple. And, well, we both know Ronald is not the most adept when it comes to making his feelings for me known."

Fred leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. He had a strong urge to reach out and take hold of her hand. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger had a fast wand hand and a vast knowledge of hexes. Instead he crossed his arms, tucking his hands near his elbows. He began to wonder when he had developed feelings for Hermione that went beyond "little brother's know-it-all, bookworm, chastising best friend." Now she was someone he sought out at family dinners and parties thrown by mutual friends. He enjoyed the hint of a smile that would appear on her lips when he neared, or the sound of her uninhibited laughter when he told a joke. It didn't take much to get that reaction out of her anymore; long gone were the Hogwarts days of berating him and George for their childish, silly pranks.

"I did talk to him," she finally admitted, sitting back in her chair. There was an air of defeat around her. "I told him how I felt. About him, about us. And I suggested that we should see other people."

Fred nodded, processing her words. The look on her face anticipated his next words, and he was careful to choose them. "I'm sure Ron didn't take it well." Hermione shook her head sadly. "But I'm sure that what you did was for the best, for the both of you. It's not easy trying to make something that's broken work like you want it to. It's even harder trying to hold onto someone who doesn't want to be held onto."

"Ron wasn't happy," she murmured.

A small chuckle came from deep within Fred's throat. "He's stubborn, but he'll come around. You two have been friends for far too long to let it go to waste over something like this." He dropped a few galleons down on the table and stood. "Ready to go?" Hermione nodded, placed her napkin on the table, and joined him.

They walked out into the sunny afternoon with their arms linked. Various topics were discussed as they observed the people around them. They shared stories about their first trips to Diagon Alley. As they passed Flourish and Blotts bookstore, Hermione looked back longingly but continued to move forward. The smile Fred had come to adore returned to her face when he suggested they go in.

"You realize it'll be dark by the time we leave," she warned him as Fred held open the door for her.

"I've got no place else to be," he assured her.

It was hours later when they emerged from the shop, Fred's arms weighed down by Hermione's purchases. They walked back to the joke shop, passing by Verity who was manning the register. She looked up as Fred and Hermione made their way to the back of the shop, a look of relief in her pale eyes. "Sorry, Ver, I'll be down in a few minutes. Promise," he told her, flashing a quick smile. He led Hermione up to the flat he and George used to share.

"Thanks for today," Hermione said to him, taking her books from him.

The redhead shrugged, pushing back locks of hair. "I had fun," he told her. "I'm glad we ran into each other today."

A blush colored Hermione's cheeks. "Me too." They stepped closer to one another and Hermione wrapped her arms around Fred's neck, rising up onto the tips of her toes. "Promise we'll do this again sometime soon?"

"Definitely," Fred replied, tightening his arms around on her waist.

Hermione pulled away and took a step back, her eyes trained on the carpet as she felt her cheeks grow warmer. "I'll, um, I'll see you soon, Fred."

He nodded, watching as she stepped up to the fireplace and grab a handful of floo powder. "Hey, Granger?"

She looked up, feeling the powder slip through her fingers. "Yeah?"

"Was this a date?"

Hermione held her books closer to her chest and laughed. "No, Fred, it wasn't." Then she threw down the floo powder, clearly yelling out "The Burrow" before disappearing into the green flames.

Fred shook his head and smiled before making his way back down to the shop.


	3. Chapter 3

The Third Time

Ginny snored.

It wasn't the first time Hermione discovered this fact about her friend and roommate. It had kept her awake many nights. When Ginny began to talk in her sleep, Hermione gave up any hope of finding some respite in her bed. She kicked back the covers, groaning as the snoring started anew.

The hallway was dark when she stepped out of the bedroom. It would be seven paces to the stairs, which Hermione counted in the dark. Her foot touched the first step, then the next, until she was in the kitchen. Once there, she finally turned on a light. She filled the tea kettle with water as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the light. Once the pot was on the stove with a flame underneath, Hermione took a seat at the table and let her head rest against the wooden top.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed twice just as the kettle whistled. It was two o'clock in the morning, and Hermione was sitting in the Burrow kitchen instead of asleep in her bed. Hermione shook her head; it wasn't really her bed. This wasn't really her home.

Footsteps caused the stairs to squeak. Hermione looked up to see Fred coming towards her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, pouring water into her cup before selecting another cup for him.

Fred yawned before answering. "My flat is too quiet without George there. I sleep here a few nights a week when I can't take the silence any longer."

"Silence. Must be nice," she grumbled, retaking her seat. "Gin snores. Loudly."

Fred laughed. "You didn't grow up in a house with eight other people," he replied, stirring a teaspoon of sugar into his tea. "I been thinking about looking for a roommate, ya know."

The tired witch nodded in agreement, fiddling with her spoon. She began to wonder why she suddenly hoped Fred would ask her to take his spare room. The logical part of her mind told her it was because he recognized her need to leave the Weasley family home. The female part of her told it was because she may have developed a slight crush on Ron's older brother.

"Yeah, I was going to offer it to Verity." Hermione's eyes snapped to Fred as he spoke. He smiled briefly before continuing. "But she might see it as me taking advantage of her close proximity to the store. So, I think that idea is out." 

Silence settled over the pair as they continued to drink their tea. Fred yawned again and stood, taking his cup to the sink. "I think I'm gonna head back up to bed," he announced. Hermione nodded and gave him a short wave. He was halfway up the steps when he stopped. "You know the room is yours if you want it." He was gone before she could respond.

The next afternoon, Hermione stood outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a suitcase and backpack in her hands. It took several deep, fortifying breaths before she pushed open the door and made her way to the checkout counter. Fred stood behind the register ringing up customers, but asked George to take over once he spotted her.

"So, uh, I thought I would take you up on your offer," she stuttered. When Fred pretended to not know what she was referring to, Hermione stammered and her suitcase fell to the floor. "Well, I mean, you said the room was...sorry. I'll just go."

Fred reached out for her case, tugging slightly on Hermione's arm. "I was only joking. I know what you're talking about." He managed to pry the suitcase from her hand and began to walk upstairs to the flat. Hermione followed a few steps behind, setting her backpack down beside the door when they entered. He moved through the living room and past the kitchen, then down a short hallway with two closed doors on the right side. At the end of the hallway were two doors, side by side.

"Yours is the one on the right," he told her, pushing open the door. He set her case down on the end of the bed. "It's not much, but we can fix up anything you want."

"It's perfect," she told him with a smile. "Thank you."

"Get unpacked. I'll be downstairs."

By the end of the day, Fred was exhausted as he dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment. The pleasant aroma of garlic and tomatoes wafted toward him before he even opened the door. "Honey, I'm home," he called out. Hermione emerged from the kitchen with two bowls of pasta in her hands. "You cooked? Is this safe?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a seat on the sofa. "Your mum helped," she admitted, holding out a bowl to him. He took a hesitant bite, chewed slowly, and declared it edible. "I did do most of the work myself though." They spent dinner discussing the daily goings-on of the joke shop. Fred told her about their latest projects, the newest, best-selling inventions, and the comical outcomes of customers who tested the products without buying. Hermione filled him in on the plans she had for her room - everything from changing the color of the walls to installing a few bookshelves to house her massive collection of tomes.

With the dinner dishes set aside for the moment, Fred leaned back into the comfort of his couch and closed his eyes. He heard Hermione rise and collect the dirty plates before taking them to the sink to rinse. It wasn't until she returned, long legs tucked underneath her, that he reopened them.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Hermione offered, watching the fire burning brightly in the hearth.

The sleepy redhead shrugged. "How much money ya got?" Hermione laughed, bringing a smile to Fred's face. "Mum's on me to get married. Bill's done it, Percy's done it, George has done it. Hell, even Ginny's engaged. I think she's given up on convincing Charlie that it's time he settled down, and now she's moved on to me."

"Maybe you'll wear her down and she'll move on to Ron," Hermione replied, pulling up her right leg to rest her arm against her knee.

"I don't think I ever want to get married," he admitted. "After the war...hell, during the war, I didn't think I was gonna survive. That wall, I still think about it all the time. Not sure I've got the brain capacity to think about getting serious enough with anyone."

Hermione scooted closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I didn't know," she whispered.

"Yeah, no one ever expects me to do anything but crack jokes and pull pranks," he snapped, his tone terse and sarcastic. The head on his shoulder rose, and Fred caught a quick glimpse of sad brown eyes staring back at him. "Sorry, it's not you I'm angry at."

She moved back against the back cushions and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I think about it a lot too," she admitted. "The battles, the final showdown, Malfoy Manor. It's hard not to think about it all."

He nodded in agreement and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks for listening to me," he murmured, standing up. "I'm gonna go to bed. Sleep tight."

"Yeah, you too, Fred," she replied with a sad smile.

Fred was near the kitchen when he stopped and turned around. "You reckon this was a date?"

"Still not a date," she informed him with a slight eye roll. "Go to bed."


	4. Chapter 4

The Fourth Time

The invitation arrived early one morning by owl. The bird landed on the kitchen table just as Hermione sat down with a mug of tea and a bowl of cereal. It was the Ministry's annual ball to celebrate the end of the war and the dark times that accompanied them. She had attended the first ball with Ron; the only time he'd ever asked. This would be her second, and Hermione had a sinking feeling that she would be going stag.

The bathroom door opened, a small fog of steam spilling out along with a wet headed Fred. "Shower's free," he told her. "Not sure I left you any hot water though."

"That's okay. I didn't save you any breakfast," she replied cheekily, leaving her half-eaten bowl of cereal on the table. Fred took the chair she vacated and lifted the spoon to his mouth; a small trickle of milk escaping the corner of his lips.

He picked up the invitation, reading it over. "We going?" he asked, waving the notice in the air.

Hermione shrugged and placed her mug in the sink. "Think we have a choice?" she wondered.

"It is sort of in our honor. After all, we are war heroes, and this is a celebration of the war."

"Guess we're going then," she conceded.

The bathroom door was almost closed when she heard Fred call out, "So it's a date then, Miss Granger?"

"Not on your life," she called back, locking the door.

The next week, Hermione and Fred stood outside of the Ministry of Magic. The ball was being held in the spacious atrium. Slowly, the made their way inside taking in the soft blues and whites and golds of the decorations. The atrium was crowded as they made their way through, looking for familiar faces. The first one Hermione spotted was Ron.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Fred observed as she paled. He looked towards the direction Hermione's eyes went, landing on his younger brother whose hands were slowly exploring Lavender Brown's backside. Hermione moved away from his side and made her way to the bar. She downed the first shot of firewhiskey placed before her before ordering another.

"I didn't expect him to never move on," she stated when Fred came to stand beside her. She downed the second shot. "I just didn't expect it to be with _her_." A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and Hermione made sure to have one in her hand. Fred reached for it, but she held it away from him.

"Planning on getting drunk tonight?" he inquired.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe."

She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Fred alone at the bar when George sidled up beside him. The twins remained quiet as Fred tried to find Hermione amongst the gaggle of guests.

"She okay?" George asked, noticing the less than thrilled expression on Fred's face.

"No idea," Fred replied, avoiding his brother's attempts at eye contact. He didn't need to look at George to know he was smirking devilishly at him. "Don't say it."

"You like her."

"That's the thing you aren't supposed to say." Fred grabbed a champagne flute as another waiter passed by. He downed the bubbly, sweet liquid in one gulp and sighed. "I do like her. We're friends, that's all."

George shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. You've fallen for the girl."

"I think she's still hung up on Ron," Fred muttered. He set the empty glass on the bar and walked away.

It was hours before Fred's and Hermione's paths crossed again. Her cheeks were flushed and the glass in her hand continued to tilt more and more as she walked closer to him. "Hi Freddie," she greeted him, her words slurring as a trickle of champagne spilled from her glass onto her dress robes. She paid it no attention as she threw her arms around his neck. Fred unwound her arms and took the flute out of her hand. "Dance with me?" Her arms tightened around his neck as she began to sway along with the orchestra.

"I think it's time to go home," he said quietly. A pout pulled down the sides of her mouth before she opened it to protest. "You smell like a pub right now. We're going home." He took hold of her arm and began to walk toward the exit.

Jerking her arm out of his grip, Hermione stomped her high-heeled foot. "You are not the boss of me. I can stay if I want to, and I want to." Her eyes became glassy, whether from the alcohol or because she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Fred relented and stepped closer to her, pulling her in for a hug. "It wasn't supposed to be this hard."

"What wasn't?" he murmured, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

"Seeing Ron with someone else," she told him, her voice muffled against his finest robes. She lifted her head, her chin resting on his chest, and looked deeply into Fred's eyes. "I don't love him. Not anymore. I can't remember when it was that I last loved Ron."

His hand traced a smooth line up and down her blue silk-covered back. "Let's go home." Hermione nodded and allowed Fred to lead her away from the party to the Apparition point around the block. They landed together, arms around one another, in the middle of the living room. Slowly, the drew apart. "Need some help getting to bed?"

"No," she replied quietly. She began walking towards her room, stumbling occasionally over her heels. Fred moved up behind her and placed an arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, I'm going the same way anyhow." She offered him a grateful smile and moved again. Fred opened her bedroom door and led her to her bed where she plopped down ungracefully. He crouched down in front of her and slipped off her right shoe, and then the left. When he completed his task, he moved up onto his knees, eye level with Hermione as she slouched forward to watch him. Before he realized it, Hermione's lips were on his. Her lips tasted sweet, like champagne and vanilla lip gloss.

"Fred, was this a date?" she murmured against his lips before sucking his lower lip into her mouth.

Fred pulled away and sighed. He placed his hands on her upper arms and helped her to lay down. "No, Hermione, it wasn't."


	5. Chapter 5

The Fifth Time

Meals at the Burrow were always a production. Mrs. Weasley would putter around the kitchen for hours beforehand, supervising knives that chopped vegetables and spoons that stirred pots full of soups and stews. A fresh loaf of bread was just finished baking when Fred and Hermione arrived, sniffing the delicious-smelling air. They had barely stepped out of the floo when Mrs. Weasley descended upon them, pulling each of them into a tight hug.

"Lunch will be ready in an hour," she informed them, patting Fred's cheek. "Your brothers and sister are outside playing Quidditch. Go join them." Fred kissed his mother's cheek and exited through the kitchen door.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Hermione asked, watching as he left.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and smiled a smile that alighted her round face. "No, dear, I've got it all under control. Go join everyone else."

The young witch made her way outside. Above her in the fields Harry and most of the Weasley siblings soared around on broomsticks, yelling to one another and cheering whenever one team scored. She waved to Ginny and pulled a book from her purse. Taking a seat under the apple tree, she cracked open her book to read. A shadow hovered over her, blocking the sunlight that beamed in her eyes. It wasn't until the shadow moved and he sat down beside her that she closed the book.

"Hi Fred," she said without looking up as she read the back cover. "Aren't you going to play?"

"Maybe later. I thought I'd keep you company for a bit," he replied.

The book was open again, but Hermione couldn't focus on the words on the page. Fred sighed intermittently as she tried to concentrate. "How long do you plan on watching me read?" she asked, glancing over at the smiling redhead.

He took on a contemplative look, tapping his index finger against his lips. "Hmm, either until you close it and talk to me, or until the game is over. Whichever one comes first."

With a sigh, Hermione shut the book again and laid it down by her side. She looked pointedly at Fred, waiting for him to speak.

"We kissed."

"We were drunk," she replied dismissively, looking back to the game.

Fred shook his head. "_We_ weren't drunk, _you_ were. But does that really change anything?"

"It doesn't change anything between us," she murmured. "It can't, Fred."

"Why not?" he asked, a small growl in his voice. Hermione turned to look at him with wide eyes. "It's just...I've...I don't know."

She rested her hand on his forearm, glad when he didn't pull it away from her reach. "You can tell me," she replied softly.

"I like you," he admitted sheepishly, reaching over with his right hand to cover her comforting hand. "And I know I shouldn't because of Ron and everything, but I can't help it. I really like you, Hermione."

"But you've never...we've...," she stuttered as she tried to pull away. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "What do we do now?"

Fred shrugged and removed his hand before standing up. He took time to brush the grass and dirt from the seat of his pants before saying, "We do nothing. Apparently the kiss meant nothing to you."

She shot up the second he was done speaking. "It didn't...did mean something to me," she admitted, staring down at her shoes.

"Lunch is ready!"

At once, six broomstick-riders touched down, dropped their brooms, and ran towards the kitchen. Fred stepped around her, leaving Hermione in her place.

"Come on, lunch is served," he said coldly before walking away. Hermione watched, standing still, until Fred was inside before she brushed away a stray tear and began walking.

The magically enlarged kitchen table was filled with pots and plates and serving dishes. Pitchers of butterbeer were circulated, refilling themselves whenever they were drained. Fred was squeezed in between George (on his right) and Charlie (on his left.) Hermione looked around for a place to sit, hoping one would be open near Fred so they could work out their problem. The only available chair was at the far end of the table next to Harry.

Lunch passed by in a blur for Hermione. The little bit of food she helped herself to had been pushed around until the meat and gravy-covered potatoes and vegetables were one mushy lump on her plate.

"Anyone up for another game?" Ginny inquired. George, Angelina, Ron, and Harry followed Ginny to the backyard.

"Hey Fred, we need a sixth," George called back. His brother merely shook his head and stared at Hermione for a brief second. He pushed back his chair and kissed his mother's cheek, thanking her for lunch.

"I'm gonna head out," he told her, loud enough for Hermione to hear. "There's some stuff to get done at the store. Receipts, product testing, that sort of thing."

Mrs. Weasley turned and patted her son's cheek before pulling him into a hug. She let him go and moved on to Hermione. The young witch was on her feet with Molly Weasley tightly hugging her as well. "It was good of you kids to come," she told them happily. "You've no idea how happy it makes me to have all my children with me. I'll see you soon." She smoothed back a curly lock of hair from Hermione's forehead before pressing a kiss to the skin.

"Umm, yeah, thank you for lunch," Hermione murmured. She hadn't realized she too would be leaving, but she followed Fred to the floo. He went first, scowling at her as he disappeared in the green flame. She took her turn next and arrived seconds later in their living room. The room was empty as she stepped out of the fireplace. It was the slamming of a bedroom door that alerted Hermione to Fred's whereabouts. Slowly, she walked down the hall and hesitantly knocked on his door.

After a minute of knocking, Fred sighed heavily and said, "Come in." Hermione pushed open the door just enough to squeeze in before shutting it again. He was reclined on his bed, a pillow over his face. She approached the bed slowly, sitting far enough away so as to not startle him should he remove the pillow.

"I'm sorry, Fred," she said with a small voice.

The pillow came off and he glared at her. "Forget it. Guess this wasn't a date either, huh?" he asked sardonically.

"I wasn't as drunk as I maybe let on that night," she admitted, focused on her intertwined hands. "I wanted to see what it would be like to kiss you, and playing drunk seemed like a good excuse." She rose from the bed and was about to let herself out of the room when she turned back. "And no, Fred, this was definitely not a date."


	6. Chapter 6

The Sixth Time

The apartment was dark when Fred entered after a long day of work. The shop had been hectic; customers packed in the space from the time they opened until closing. All he wanted was a shot of firewhiskey, a hot shower, and his bed. He flicked on the living room light only to find a note attached to the lampshade.

_Meet me on the roof.  
-H_

Fred rolled his eyes and tossed it away. After their fight, tension had been high between the roommates. For two weeks, they ate their meals in shifts and remained locked away in their rooms, coming out only to use the bathroom or eat. He always made sure to be up before her to get to work in the morning, and always came home hours after the store closed.

He picked up the note and reattached it to the lamp. Hopefully she would believe that he never saw it and that was why he never met her. Shoes off and t-shirt discarded on the floor, he worked on his belt as the water heated up in the shower. Confident that it had reached a comfortable temperature, Fred removed his remaining articles of clothing and stepped under the spray. His eyes closed immediately as the hot water pelted his sore back muscles.

With his eyes closed he envisioned Hermione sitting on the rooftop, two glasses of wine and a picnic blanket spread out. She would watch the stars until he joined her. And when he didnt, she would pack it all up and make her way back down. Her bedroom door would close quietly so as to not disturb him, and then she would cry herself to sleep.

The water was quickly shut off as he stepped out of the shower. Hastily, he dried himself off with the hand towel Hermione kept near the bathroom sink. He quickly pulled his clothes back on, forgoing the shoes, and sprinted up to the roof. Two wine glasses sat, still full, on the ledge that surrounded the roof. Hermione leaned against it as she stared up at the stars and below to people watch in Diagon Alley.

"I'm sorry," he said in a rush as he fought to breathe normally. Hermione spun around, wearing a sad smile.

"It's fine," she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. She picked up a glass and took a small sip before setting it back down. Her back to Fred once more as he stood still. "It's a really pretty night. You can see Cassiopeia tonight."

One foot in front of the other, he finally joined her. "It is pretty," he agreed. He picked up the other wine glass and took a hearty sip. "It's not as pretty as you though."

Her head turned and an incredulous smile lit up her face. "Did you really think that line would work?"

Fred laughed. "Had to try."

The pair stared up at the night sky, pointing out constellations and making new patterns as they traced the stars with their fingers. The bottle of wine had been finished off as they lay down on the blanket Hermione had spread out. She rolled onto her side, and leaning on her elbow, rested her head on her hand. Fred copied her position and smiled.

"Drunk now?" he asked. Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Good."

They leaned in towards each other with eyes closed as lips brushed against lips. It was a soft, tentative kiss, one to merely test the waters.

"I'm sorry about the fight," she whispered when he pulled away.

"Are you sorry about the kiss?" he asked, brushing away a stray curl that fell against her cheek.

Hermione smiled and blushed. "Which one?" came her cheeky reply. Fred kissed her once more, this time with more passion and less hesitation. "Definitely not that one," she decided.

"What about the ones the night of the ball?" he wondered nervously.

She sighed and rolled onto her back. "I think I should have been." Her gaze remained trained on the stars that burned brightly above them. "Because on the one hand, you're Ron's brother. The brother who used to tease me for reading and knowing the answers to every question. On the other hand, though, when I needed a place to stay you took me in. Whenever I've needed someone to talk to, you were there to listen. When I wanted to kill Ron, you offered to take care of it. You make me laugh. I'm happy every time you're around."

The grin grew on Fred's face as he reached his arm across her waist to pull her nearer to him. "You left out 'you're an amazing kisser. Best I've ever had in my whole life'." And then he kissed her as if to prove his point. "I'm happy whenever you're around too," he admitted.

"So, what do we do now?" she wondered.

"Shag?" Fred asked, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

He received a backhanded slap to the bicep for that comment. "Try again. And just this once, for me, try to be serious."

"We could give this a go, you and me," he offered, tightening his arm around her waist.

For her part, Hermione pretended to mull over his suggestion; holding out until his wandering hands found their way under her sweater. With a shocked gasp and widened eyes, she swatted away his hands. "Not until you buy me dinner, at least," she joked, linking their fingers together. Their mouths moved against each other once more, deepening and exploring new territory. A chill ran down her spine as a gust of wind passed over the rooftop.

"Let's go inside," Fred murmured, though he wouldn't detach his lips from Hermione. She agreed and stop with him, slipping her hand inside of his. They stopped just outside of their bedroom doors. "I should probably let go now, huh." Instead, his hand tightened around hers.

"Probably," she agreed, doing nothing to break their contact.

His free hand ran through his hair as he nervously spoke. "So, I know I've asked this before, and it's sort of become an annoying joke between us, but is this a date?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, Fred. This was a date." 


End file.
